El Cafe de Lima
by Zohh
Summary: AU, 1930s/1940s.  Certain events in life shape Santana to be the stubborn and wild person she is.  Eventual Santana/Brittany, will include smatterings of other pairings and characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **Yes. This is an AU story loosely based off of Fanny Flagg's _Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe_. Feel free to look at my profile for further details.

Also: I used the iGoogle translator for any Spanish used in this. No lie, I got a C in Spanish two, so I am definitely not reliable.

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><p>Santana was running around in the afternoon spring grass with the twins Marcos and Miguel when the Erie Star was on its way to making its daily stop at the Lima train station. Her older sister Gabriella was reading a book like a <em>proper girl<em> from the front porch of the white house with the green shutters. Santana didn't want to be like her sister, though, and much preferred the vigorous activity of a satisfying game of tag with her brothers.

More often than not, her older twin brothers either ignored her or picked on her, so Santana took every opportunity to play with them. Gabriella, who was ten years her senior, tried getting Santana to be more like a _girl_ and to do _girly_ things, like reading and cooking, but Santana found her brothers more entertaining.

Mrs. Lopez poked her head out from the front door and looked around the yard, only to count four out of her five children present.

"¿Dónde está tu otro hermano?"

Gabriella didn't bother to glance up from her book, too engrossed in the workings of Jane Austin. "He's down by the tracks, showing off to the church girls with that new hat Papi bought for him last week."

Mrs. Lopez rolled her eyes and sighed. "Él no tiene que mostrar. Somos la única puertorriqueños aquí."

Gabriella shrugged and turned another page in her book, glancing up only to watch her younger sister fall down and get a grass stain on the pair of overalls that used to belong to Miguel.

"Aye, Santana!"

Santana got up from the ground and wiped her hands on the seat of her pants.

"Yes, Mami?"

"Go down to the tracks and fetch your brother," Mrs. Lopez said. "Dile que dejar de sonreír a las muchachas bonitas y volver a casa."

At the age of ten, Santana Lopez could say with complete honesty that her older brother Diego was her best friend. He didn't treat her like a small child like Gabriella did, and he didn't ignore her like the twins did most of the time. She was only an infant when her family made the move from Puerto Rico to New York back in 1917, and had been her protector ever since they traveled down from big town, New York, to the more comfortable small town, Ohio.

As the only Puerto Rican, let alone Hispanic, family living in Lima (and maybe even in Ohio), it's no surprise that the Lopez family stuck out from the norm. Everyone was white, except for the occasional black folk that worked for a white family. But after years of serving the town with nothing but kindness and fair prices down at the convenience store, the Lopez family had become well-respected in Lima, and nothing short of the average family.

Ever since Santana was old enough to walk, she followed Diego around like a puppy on a leash, and he was always thrilled to have her. Diego was a charmer, and could make any girl's heart melt with just a smile; he was a heartbreaker, whether he meant to be or not. Santana did everything she could to be just like him, and even spent a full hour in front of her mother's mirror to try and get her smile just like Diego's so she could break hearts, too.

Diego was the one who taught Santana how to steal a cookie while their mother was looking away before dinner, and then taught her how to properly lie about where the missing cookie went. Whatever Diego did, Santana did.

"Santana? _Now_."

"Yes, Mami."

Santana took off at a run to the train tracks, dodging the yellow dandelions in the grass as if they were mines in a field. The tracks were just behind their house, separated by a long stretch of dirt and trees that acted as a wall.

"Diego!" Santana called as she ran closer. She grinned when she saw him wave to her through the trees, and stopped so she could wave back. "Mami wants you back at the house." He was still talking to the two girls in front of him and didn't hear here.

Diego put a finger out as if to stop the church girls from doing something, and took a step back, his new hat on his head and his feet on the tracks. Santana recognized one of the girls as Lisa Fabray. She had pretty blonde hair and was wearing a nice, blue dress, and always laughed at Diego's jokes. She also had a younger sister, Quinn, who was Santana's age. Both Fabray girls were quiet, smart, and kind, the epitome of perfect, small town Catholic girls. Santana sometimes played with Quinn whenever she was following Diego around town and he wanted to see Lisa.

Diego had pointed Lisa out to Santana once after church and said, "One day, I'm going to marry that girl. I'm going to marry Lisa Fabray." She didn't understand why, if her brother wanted to marry Lisa, he spent his time bothering with other girls. But then again, Santana didn't understand a lot of things.

Santana moved closer to the tracks, ducking under a tree branch and watched her brother. She could hear the rushing sound of a sudden gust of wind, but the trees didn't move and her brown hair didn't flutter like it usually does.

"Diego,"

He grinned at her again, and then flashed his smile to Lisa Fabray and the other girl. The rushing sound got louder and Santana grew worried.

Diego took his hat from his head and extended his arms so it was straight in front of him, and then flipped it up in the air. The hat flew up and then landed on his head. He removed his hat again, bending down into a slow bow.

Lisa was the first to scream, and then the other girl. The rushing sound that Santana had heard was the sound of the Erie Star, on its way to the Lima train station.

"DIEGO!"

Mrs. Lopez felt a pang in her stomach before she heard the sound of the train coming to a screeching halt or the faded, high-pitched screams. She was in the middle of making the rice for dinner when she felt it, and immediately threw everything down and ran from the kitchen, running out of the front door as fast as her legs would take her.

"Marcos, Miguel ir a buscar a tu padre!"

The twins barely had enough time to register what their mother had said before she was off, running towards the train tracks and the screams.

"No es mi hijo! Oh, Dios, no uno de mis hijos!"

Santana didn't understand a lot of things. She didn't understand why her sister Gabriella spent so much time fussing over her hair, or why her mother insisted on teacher her how to cook, or even why she had to go to church every Sunday. As her mother came running through the wall of trees, her white apron covered in the dust of dirt, and as the two girls Diego had been trying to charm sobbed, and as the conductor walk out with a solemn look on his face, Santana didn't understand why her brother had to be hit by the train.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I'm not sure _exactly_ how I'm going to play this out, or if I'm even going to continue, but I do have a pretty decent idea. However, this is sort of just the beginning/an introduction. I did some research for this, and there's no way I could use the same time line as the original story, since Puerto Rico (I'm assuming that Santana is Peurto Rican; I don't think it's been explicitly stated, but I mean, Naya is, so...) didn't become a part of the United States until 1917 with full citizenship rights and everything.

For those of you that have read FGT, or have seen the movie, I am not going to include the Evelyn/Ninny storyline. I feel like it would be too difficult and rather pointless for an AU _Glee_ story. Basically, this will focus almost solely on Santana and Brittany (aka Idgie and Ruth). Other characters that everyone knows and loves will be introduced later, and then inevitably there will be Brittany/Santana. Only I'm not exactly the best at keeping up with stories (seriously, chaptered stories are not my thing, I stick with one-shots/drabbles), so I don't want to make any promises. **  
><strong>

Alright, guys. What do you think? Is it worth it to continue? Am I cut out for AU? **  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **I'm trying to push the story forward here; hopefully no one is dreadfully confused or anything (but I think everything is fine at the moment). I'll probably go into further detail with certain things, but for now, I sort of just want to get to the actual plot.

Also: you might want to have iGoogle up in another tab 'cause I used the translator a lot.

_EDIT:_ I changed the location of Brittany's hometown. It's a minor detail for now, but will make a bit more sense later on.

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><p>Santana spent the next six years of her childhood either hiding in Diego's old room or sitting on the second branch up on the mulberry tree in the backyard. She seldom spent time socializing with others, and had completely stopped going to church on Sundays with her family; if God had seen fit to take away her brother and best friend, then she had seen fit to stop caring about God.<p>

Her mother and sister had spent equal amounts of time sobbing and sniffling over Diego's death, and her brothers and father had spent equal amounts of time sitting quietly with their heads in their hands, but Santana had taken the loss the hardest. She often refused to come down from the mulberry tree, and the only person who could get her to cooperate was Miguel.

A week after the sixth anniversary of the accident, the evening spring air was turning into evening summer air and Santana was swinging her legs from a tree branch. She was ignoring her calls from her mother and continued to read the book she had stolen from Gabriella's room.

"Santana!" Mrs. Lopez sighed, having called for her youngest daughter over four times. She walked back into the kitchen through the back door and shook her head. "Miguel, por favor ir a buscar a tu hermana," she said tiredly.

Gabriella scoffed as her brother nodded and got up from his chair.

"She's sixteen, Mami. She shouldn't be acting like such a child."

Before Mrs. Lopez could open her mouth to respond, Marcos cut in and said, "You're twenty-six, hermanita. _You_ should be married."

"Marcos!" Mrs. Lopez yelled as Gabriella's face turned bright red. "No digas esas cosas a tu hermana! Usted sabe que ella está comprometida."

Marcos was still snickering to himself while he muttered out an apology.

Outside in the backyard, Miguel had successfully dodged Santana's swinging legs and climbed up the tree to sit next to her on an adjacent branch.

"Hey," he said, squinting to look at the cover of the book she had in her hands.

"Hi." Santana barely acknowledged his presence and turned a page.

"Did you take that from Gabriella's room?"

"Si." Her fingers were mostly covering the title of the book, but Miguel could tell that it was written by Hemingway.

"Santana,"

"What?" She put the book down and looked at him with a hard expression.

"I know these last six years have been hard, but y'don't have to be like this."

"Be like _what_?" Santana asked, her level of annoyance rising.

"You know what I mean," Miguel said simply.

Santana's face softened and she spoke quietly, "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course, hermanita."

"I really only do it to annoy Gabriella and Mami."

A brief moment of silence passed between the two siblings before they broke out into a fit of giggles. After composing themselves, Santana was the first to jump down from the tree, putting the book in between her knees so she could use her hands to wipe the back of her pants. Miguel followed her, and the two ran inside through the back door and into the kitchen.

"Nice of you to join us," Mrs. Lopez said, scooping rice into bowls. "Ve a lavarte y luego sentarse."

Santana nodded, hiding the book from her sister's eyes, and ran to the upstairs bathroom.

"Recibí una carta de su abuelo en la actualidad," Mr. Lopez announced as Santana was sitting down at the kitchen table. He seldom spoke English in his own home, despite his fluency, but ultimately gave up on trying to get his children to speak Spanish constantly like he did. Gabriella was the only one who had vivid memories of their home back in Puerto Rico; Santana was only an infant when the immigrated.

"How is he? How's our old home?" Marcos asked.

"Dijo que el tío Joseph podría venir aquí."

"Really?" Santana perked up and her father nodded in response.

"Speaking of people coming here," Mrs. Lopez said, exchanging a glance with her husband, "we will be having someone staying with us for the summer."

Santana frowned. "¿Quién?"

"Su nombre es Brittany." Her mother answered. "She's just a few years older than you, Santana, and she'll be helping out with the church."

Santana continued to frown. "¿De dónde es?"

Mrs. Lopez set down her fork and hesitated for a moment. "Oh, es ese lugar en Pennsylvania ... Sé que es muy lejos ..."

"Lancaster, novia." Mr. Lopez filled in, a smile of endearment playing at his mouth.

"Si, si. She's from Lancaster. They have a very large Catholic population there; I think that's what enticed Father Hudson."

"Where is she staying?" It was Gabriella who asked this question, and she wore a slightly skeptical expression on her face.

"You will all still have your rooms, hijos. Your papi has been taking the time to clean out the attic, which should do nicely for just the summer."

Santana took a sip of water, relieved. She had been afraid that her parents would give this random church girl from Lancaster, Pennsylvania (Santana silently scoffed; she wasn't even from Ohio) in Diego's room. She would rather die herself than let someone tarnish his memory.

"When is she coming?" Miguel asked. He looked over to Santana, trying to read her expression, but she was busying herself with her dinner and he couldn't see her face.

"Her train is coming in on Saturday." Mr. Lopez answered, surprising his family with his use of English. With a guest in their home for the summer, the amount of Spanish that the Lopez family used would have to be cut down.

"Why is she staying with us?" Santana asked, still unnerved with the thought of a stranger living with them. "Why isn't she staying with the Hudsons or the Fabrays?"

"Because, Father Hudson asked me specifically after church a few weeks ago."

"You could have said no," Santana muttered into her chicken.

"¿Qué fue eso?" Her mother asked sternly, the switch back to Spanish indicating that any further discussion of the girl named Brittany staying with them was over.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I plan on doing some flashback scenes in later chapters, similar to how the book/movie was laid out, in order to delve into things like how/why the Lopez's ended up in America, and Santana's relationship with Diego. But hey: Brittany! Unless I completely forget/scrap my current plans (which could very well happen), she should be making her first appearance in the next chapter.

If there is a next chapter, that is, 'cause I'm not all that reliable...

Does anyone have any suggestions on where they would like to see this story go, in relation to _Fried Green Tomatoes_? Am I doing an AU story justice?**  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **"I touched the worm earlier, and it felt _bad._" - One of my campers.

There is minimal Spanish in this chapter, so you probably shouldn't need the iGoogle translator in a second tab.

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><p>Brittany S. Pierce stepped off of the <em>Erie Star<em> at Lima's train station. She hadn't been nervous or worried about staying in a different town with a family she had yet to meet—her mother had done plenty of worrying for the both of them—but as she stood off of the platform with all of her luggage in a completely strange town, the nervousness began to seep into her like the early summer heat seeping through her blue dress.

"Well, hi there,"

Brittany looked to her left and saw a boy, no older than herself, staring at her with a broad grin and short, scruffy-looking hair. She smiled politely at him and said, "Hello."

"What's a pretty gal like you doin' all alone at a train station?"

"Oh well, um, I'm supposed to meeting someone here, actually."

The boy's—man's? If he was Brittany's age then yes, technically he was a man, but she wasn't one to categories people into "boy" or "man," especially people she hardly knew—face lit up and he stepped closer to her, placing his hand on her shoulder and carefully moving the two towards the station building.

"So you're the church girl staying with the Lopez family, eh?"

Brittany was slightly taken aback by him and his actions and hesitated before responded. "Um, yes. I am. Do you know the Lopez's? They were supposed to meet me here...I hardly know where I should be..."

"Noah!"

The boy whipped his head around and smiled again, dropping his hand from Brittany's shoulder. "Mr. Lopez!"

A caramel-skinned man with black hair and his sleeves rolled up was walking towards the two. Brittany tried to contain herself but her eyes still widened at the sight; she had never seen a hispanic person before, let alone a Puerto Rican. She had no problem with the fact that the Lopez's were Puerto Rican; she agreed to help with their church over the summer and they were all Catholic, after all, but the fact that she would be spending over three months with a family so very different from hers was finally hitting her.

"Ah, you must be Brittany!" Mr. Lopez was very enthusiastic about meeting her, and all Brittany could do was nod. "I hope you weren't scaring the poor girl, Noah."

"Not at all, Mr. Lopez. I was just getting her out of the bustle of the station." Noah grinned again.

Mr. Lopez turned to face Brittany, who had managed to compose herself and was now standing like a "proper lady" as her mother taught her. "Well, Brittany, I know everyone at home is very excited to meet you. Let me take your bags for you,"

"Oh, thank you," Brittany did all she could do and smiled. She wanted to make a nice and simple impression upon the man who's house she would be living in.

"Take care of yourself, Noah. Adios!"

Noah laughed, and Brittany could have sworn it was forced. "Adios, Mr. Lopez."

"That's Noah Puckerman," Mr. Lopez explained as he guided Brittany onto the sidewalk. "He's a bit of ah...how you say? Hoodlum. Yes. Sometimes getting into trouble. But he's still a good boy."

"Does Noah go to the church, too?"

"Oh, no." Mr. Lopez shook his head. "Noah's family is Jewish. One of the few in Lima."

Brittany wanted to ask about how they manage with the Ku Klux Klan parading around, but felt too uncomfortable with the topic. Instead, smiled again and then felt like her mouth was going to fall off.

"So, Brittany, tell me about yourself."

"Well, as you know, I help teach Sunday school at my church, and um, I just graduated from high school."

"My youngest, Santana, is going into her last year of school."

"I didn't realize we were so close in age," Brittany said, side stepping a large pebble on the sidewalk.

"Oh, yes. But," Mr. Lopez's smile faltered briefly, "she can be a bit...hard to handle."

Brittany was surprised by this, starting to think that the youngest Lopez was some loose flirt that spent time with boys far worse than Noah Puckerman and that disobeyed her parents. She tried to push that aside, wanted to wait until she saw Santana for herself, and looked back up at Mr. Lopez.

"Ah, here we are." Mr. Lopez stopped walking and gestured up at rather large, white house with faded green shutters.

"Your house is very nice," Brittany commented, gazing over the entire yard with her blue eyes.

"Ah, gracias. Thank you. I apologize in advanced for the constant use of Spanish. While we have been living in America for over sixteen years, my family and I often speak our native language at home."

Brittany genuinely beamed up at the man. In school, she only learned two years' worth of French. "I've always been interested in learning another language."

"Well, you're definitely in the right place for that!"

Brittany smiled for what felt like the umpteenth time since she had arrived in Lima, but her mouth didn't hurt as much. Mr. Lopez led her through the front door and her nostrils were immediately filled with scents she had never smelled before. The walls were a dark green that matched the outside shutters and afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows.

"Papi, ¿es usted?" A young woman in a yellow dress came down the wooden staircase, the hem flowing below her knees with each step she took.

"We're in the kitchen," he called back happily.

"Papi?"

Brittany quickly brushed any dirt off of her pale blue dress before standing with her hands clasped in front of her and her blonde hair hanging off of her shoulders.

"Yes, mija."

Gabriella walked into the kitchen, momentarily confused at her father's use of English. She then plastered a smile onto her face when she saw Brittany.

"You must be Brittany," she said, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Yes. It's very nice to meet you..."

"Gabriella." She stuck her hand out and Brittany leaned forward to shake it.

"Gabriella, go get your mother and brothers. Is Santana out still?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes and sighed. "Si. Mami tried getting her to come inside but she refused."

Brittany stood off to the side as father spoke to daughter. She normally didn't like to judge people, but with the way Mr. Lopez spoke of his youngest daughter and the tone Gabriella used of her sister, she couldn't help but formulate her own vision of Santana. She worried her lip between her teeth, reminding herself that she had yet to meet the youngest Lopez and therefore could not make any decisions about her.

"I apologize, again," Mr. Lopez said, shaking his head as Gabriella made her way back upstairs. "My youngest is rather stubborn and sometimes refuses to listen to us."

Brittany tried to laugh but it came out as more of an awkward cough. She now understood her mother's nervousness.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I sort of hate the word "smile" now.

The plot will get better soon. Swearsies.**  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **Still trying to move things forward. There's a bit of Spanish in this chapter, so you may or may not want a translator to help. I'm trying to keep the Spanish to a minimal, but I don't think that will happen completely until things _really_ move forward.

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><p>After living with the Lopez family for a week, Brittany had become relatively accustomed to their habits. Mr. Lopez, for example, seldom spoke English unless he was addressing Brittany specifically. Gabriella was rather stuck up and often scoffed at her siblings, especially Santana. Marcos worked down at Beiste's Auto Shop during the day and Miguel helped his father in the store. Santana...well, Brittany still didn't know much about the younger girl because she spent all of her time up in the mulberry tree or out of the house.<p>

"Mami, where's Santana? She needs to try on her dress for the wedding."

Mrs. Lopez was washing okra in the kitchen sink. "Isn't she outside?"

Gabriella shook her head. Brittany watched the exchange from where she was sitting at the kitchen table. She was making notes in her journal about the next lesson she wanted to teach for the Sunday school students at church next week.

Just then, the front door opened and light footsteps could be heard padding through the hallway.

"¿Es usted, Santana?"

"Si, Mami," Santana rolled her eyes as she stepped into the kitchen in a pair of one of her brothers' old overalls. She was still wearing a regular blouse underneath and had rolled the pants up to her knees.

Mrs. Lopez let the okra sit in a draining bowl and looked at her youngest daughter. "¿Dónde has estado todo este tiempo? Usted tiene que estar preparado para su vestido."

"I was just in Lima Heights. Hanging out with Mercedes."

"You were on the other side of the tracks? Aye, Santana!"

Santana shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Brittany buried her nose in her notebook, trying not to intrude on the family conversation. Through her observations of the Lopezes, though, she had noticed the variations in all of their accents. Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, of course, still had thick Puerto Rican accents, having grown up completely in the other country. Gabriella and the twins also spoke with a bit of an accent, but could still be understood easily. Santana, having spent little to no time in Puerto Rico only carried small traces of an accent whenever she spoke. Spanish may have been her first language, but she grew up in a place where everyone else spoke English constantly.

"Santana, que tenemos que ir a Berry's," Gabriella said impatiently.

"No veo por qué tengo que usar un vestido ..." Santana muttered, crossing her arms.

"Mami!" Gabriella threw her hands up in the air.

"Santana, por favor! Es la boda de su hermana."

"I know, I know," Santana rolled her eyes again. She glanced over at the blonde sitting at the kitchen table and then quickly looked away. "Let's just get this over with."

Gabriella had to practically drag her younger sister out of the house and to Berry's Clothier, where Shelby Berry and her daughter Rachel made dresses and blouses and Hiram Berry made and repaired shoes.

Mrs. Lopez sighed, shaking her head. "Sometimes I just don't know about that daughter of mine,"

Brittany looked up but didn't say anything. She was able to deduce a lot about the Lopez family, but Santana's stubbornness had made it hard for her to find out anything. Still not one to make assumptions, Brittany had just left it open, hoping to one day actually find something out.

"Are those lessons for church?"

"Yes, I was coming up with some ideas for Sunday school," Brittany replied, setting her pen down next to her journal.

Mrs. Lopez smiled. "It's only been a week, and the children already love you. None of them are ever keen about having to continue their religious schooling during the summer, but with you around they seem pretty happy."

Brittany smiled upon hearing this. "Well, I love working with the children! I know back home none of the kids would have been pleased about having to go to Sunday school during their vacation, but the children in Lima, as you said, do seem happy."

It was another week before Brittany had developed a routine with the Lopez family. She would go to church with the entire family (minus Santana) on Sundays and teach a children's class. On Mondays and Tuesdays she would generally stay home with Gabriella and Mrs. Lopez, occasionally learning how to cook a traditional Puerto Rican dish or reading a book suggested by Gabriella, while planning more lessons. She would go back to the church on Wednesdays and Thursdays to help Father Hudson, where she also worked with Quinn and Lisa Fabray.

After ending her lesson with the children, Brittany was waiting rather awkwardly for the Lopez family near the back of the church's sanctuary. Marcos, Miguel, and Gabriella were chatting with the Fabray sisters and Father Hudson's son Finn near the alter. Mrs. Lopez was deep in conversation with Mrs. Fabray and Brittany could hear snippets of what they were saying.

"Do you think it's a phase?" Mrs. Fabray asked.

"Aye, I don't know what it is," Mrs. Lopez shook her head. "She's practically been like this ever since..." She didn't finish her sentence and Mrs. Fabray nodded understandingly, putting a comforting hand on the other woman's shoulder.

Brittany snapped out of her trance when Mr. Lopez walked up to her. "My wife and children, the like to talk a lot."

She smiled. "I don't mind waiting."

Later that evening, Mrs. Lopez was setting down a bowl of rice and quimbombo guisado, or rather stewed okra (Brittany had a lot of trouble pronouncing it when Marcos had told her what the dish was called), onto to the dinner table and everyone was getting ready to sit down.

"Aye, Miguel, go get your sister."

Miguel nodded and was about to push his chair back to get up when Brittany cut in.

"Oh, I can fetch her. I'm already up, anyway."

"Oh no, don't worry. Miguel can do it."

Brittany smiled sweetly and said, "Really, it's no trouble (Gabriella scoffed), I want to help as much as I can. She's outside, right?"

Everyone at the table stared at her and for a moment, Brittany had thought that she said something offensive. Mr. Lopez cleared his throat and said, "She should be up in the mulberry tree." He looked around at his family, his eyes almost saying, "Let her at least try."

Brittany gave a soft "okay" before heading out the back door and to the lone mulberry tree in the backyard, where a pair of bare feet were hanging down from a branch.

"Santana?" Brittany had to shield her eyes from the evening sun as she looked up the tree. "Santana?"

Santana put down the Shakespeare play she had been reading and looked down ti see the blonde with her hand over her blue eyes like an awning. Santana tried not to blush.

"Uhm, your mother would like you to come inside for dinner," Brittany said, seeing that Santana was wearing the same rolled up overalls again, only this time with a different blouse. The younger girl began swinging her legs back in forth, carefully not to hit the blonde, and Brittany couldn't help but notice her calf muscles flex with each swing of the leg.

Santana hesitated, partly for dramatic effect and partly because her throat was more dry than it was before.

"Santana?" Brittany was now biting her lip and the other girl stopped swinging her lips.

"Alright."

A rare smile made its way to Santana's face as she hopped off from the tree branch and followed Brittany back into the house.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>If you'll notice, I cut out one of Rachel's fathers and substituted for Shelby. I know; it's awful. I didn't exactly want to, but it made a lot more sense for the time line of this story.

But hey! An actual conversation between Brittany and Santana! I told you that this was going somewhere.

So...I'm not one to beg for reviews, but I _really_ could use some feedback on this. I know the pacing seems a but slow, but I promise that Santana and Brittany will actually interact more, not just with each other but with other characters, too (Puck's coming back, Sam will probably show up, and I've already got the other pairings planned out). So. Uh. Yeah.**  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **I made a flinker today at work. No big deal. Also: little to no Spanish in this. Seriously...I think there's only two or so words. That must be some kind of record for me.

(PS. I took like, four different Nutella + pretzels breaks while writing this, so if anything is inconsistent as you read, please let me know.)

_EDIT:_ I changed the location of Brittany's hometown. It's only a minor detail for now, but will make a bit more sense later on.

* * *

><p>After Brittany was able to get Santana down from the mulberry tree with ease, it had been silently decided that, whenever Santana was feeling particularly stubborn, the blonde would be the one to coax her into coming inside. However, it soon became apparent to the Lopez family that the youngest daughter was spending less time refusing to come in, and more time hanging around the house.<p>

Sure, during the day when nothing important was happening, she would be up in the tree with a book, or sneaking off to the other side of the tracks to see her friends Mercedes and Matt, but whenever Brittany was around, Santana had taken it to being around, too.

Mr. Lopez was the first to acknowledge this, as he said to his wife one night before going to bed, "Santana seems to be acting up less. She hasn't refused to come inside for dinner once this week."

Mrs. Lopez, with her all-knowing motherly senses simply smiled and said, "I know."

On one particular Friday evening, Brittany had decided to use the remaining sunlight to her advantage by taking her bible and journal out to the porch to finish up her lesson for that coming Sunday. She stepped out onto the porch, blocking out the sound of Marcos and Miguel listening to the radio by closing the door, and looked up to see a pair of familiar tanned legs hanging from the mulberry tree. Tucking her books under her arm, Brittany walked across the grass and towards the tree.

"Mind if I join you?" Unbeknownst to Brittany, she herself was making a very bold move; no one other than Santana, and occasionally Miguel, was allowed up in the mulberry tree.

Santana, who didn't need to look down to know who was speaking, was taken aback. She put down the Dickens' novel she was reading, looking at the blonde with a questioning expression. Blue eyes stared back at her with earnestness, and Santana had to bite her bottom lip before saying anything.

"You want to sit up here...in my tree?"

Brittany felt her face grow warm. "Oh, this is your tree? Had I known, I wouldn't have bothered asking." She tried to put on her trademark smile, but failed. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Santana." Brittany turned around, adjusting the books under her arm.

"No—wait!" Santana said, catching the other girl before she walked too far away.

"Yes?" Brittany said, turning back around.

"It's not _my _tree, exactly...I mean, I'm just the only one who sits in it, and..."

"Santana?"

Santana pushed a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the rubber band it was tied in behind her ear and sighed. "Let me help you up."

Brittany walked back to the tree and smiled. Santana dog-eared her page and gingerly placed the book on the thick branch before reaching down to take the bible and notebook from Brittany. She hoisted the girl up, making room for her on the branch.

When Brittany was settled, she looked worriedly at the grass below. "Is the branch strong enough to hold both of us?"

"Sure it is." Santana answered with a shrug. "Miguel sometimes sits up here with me."

That seemed to be enough for the blonde. Santana handed Brittany her bible and journal before picking her own book back up and delving right in again. Brittany sighed contently, enjoying the feeling of her legs swinging freely beneath her in the warm evening air, and pulled a pen out of the journal's rings to begin writing.

After a few minutes of nothing but page-turning and pen-scratching, Brittany looked across the sky at the setting sun. "I can see why you like to sit up here," she said quietly.

"Sometimes..." Santana started slowly, "I really just need to get away from people."

"Really? But you always seem so social. At least, you do in Lima Heights Adjacent." Brittany tried to smirk, but knew her pale cheeks were slowly turning red.

Santana closed her book around her finger and swallowed. "The rest of my family is social, always going to church and helping people; everyone in town loves us, even if we aren't _true_ Americans. But after Diego..."

That was the first time Brittany had heard anyone speak about the diseased Lopez child. She knew virtually nothing about him, other than that he died six years ago. She didn't want to overstep her boundaries by saying or asking something wrong.

"What happened?" She spoke with a voice that was barely above a whisper, moving her hand so that her smallest finger brushed up against Santana's.

"Train." Santana answered simply. The brim of her eyes were red. "I was ten. After that...I pretty much stopped doing everything. Going to church, going into town with my mother, even making new friends."

"But you like to sneak off and go over the tracks to see Mercedes,"

Santana shrugged. "I like Lima Heights, it's more interesting." She let a smirk grace her face before adding, "Plus, it always upsets Mami whenever I go over there."

Brittany giggled, covering her mouth. After their moment of amusement, a solemn and stilted silence hung over them. Santana fidgeted with her book and Brittany kept her gaze fixed on the other girl.

"He was your best friend. Your brother."

"Yeah."

"I wasn't very bright when I was in school," Brittany said, almost out of nowhere. "I mean, I know the bible, but other than that, it took a lot of struggle for me to graduate. But," she paused for a moment, "I'm really good at listening and understanding people."

Santana met the blonde's gaze, giving her a weak smile while wiping underneath her eyes with the palm of her hand.

"Can-can I ask you something?" Brittany said timidly.

Santana nodded.

"What do you do while the rest of your family goes to church?"

"Depending on the whether, I'll usually just read up here, or go and see Puck, or—"

"Puck? Like Noah Puckerman?"

"Yeah, but most of us just call him Puck. Have you met him? He's Jewish, one of the only in Lima, so naturally he's free on Sundays."

"He was the first person I met when I stepped off of the train. I believe your father referred to him as a hoodlum."

Santana's face cracked into a wide grin and the two soon broke off into a fit of laughter, their hands and knees pressing close together.

"He tries to act like a grifter, and can sometimes be a bit of an egg, but he's good at heart. He's got it sweet for Rachel Berry, but won't admit it." Santana explained, swinging her feet back and forth.

"Her and her parents run that clothing place, right?"

"Mmhm. She normally doesn't give Puck the time of day due to his ways, but he likes the challenge."

Brittany giggled again, her face becoming a natural rosy color from the energy. Another wave a silence passed over them, and Brittany tried to start up the conversation again.

"Have you ever thought about coming back to church?"

"Would you hate me if I said that I think I've stopped believing?" Santana asked, turning her head away to look down at the ground. There was only a skim of sunlight left along the horizon, and stars were starting to make themselves known.

Brittany shook her head. "As much as I love God and His teachings, I'm not one to push my views down the throats' of others. Jesus may be my savior, but he doesn't have to be yours, just like he doesn't have to be Puck's or Rachel's."

A puff of cool, summer-night-air brushed past them and Santana moved instinctively closer to the blonde. "Y'know," she said, "most people wouldn't say that. Even my father is still disappointed that I refuse to go to church, and on more than one occasion Quinn Fabray has tried convincing Puck that he should believe in Jesus."

"I just don't think that's right," Brittany said simply. "People should be able to about their own business without getting any trouble from others."

"But this is Lima, Ohio, not Lancaster, Pennsylvania."

"Lancaster may be big, but where I come from, everyone has a set of rules to abide by. Religion and education are what matters most, and not even the Klan has bothered to reek a lot of havoc."

Santana found that last part to be mildly interesting when, just when she was six-years-old, the Klan had managed to gather a crowed of almost a hundred thousand people in her little town. She pushed that aside, though, and said, "Well around here, one person's business is everyone's business."

"That's one thing I will never understand about this town. Everyone knows everything about each other. Doesn't that ever get irritating?"

Santana sighed, completely forgetting the book she had been holding onto. "Sometimes. But you grow accustomed to it, and sometimes it's nice not having to tell people things because they just already knew."

"It must've made Diego's death a lot easier, then; not having to tell people."

Brittany had let it slip out of her mouth before she realized what she was actually saying. Her eyes grew wide and she looked immediately at Santana, who looked like she was either on the verge of tears or on the verge of breaking something.

"I'm so sorry, Santana," Brittany said quickly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Santana didn't respond and Brittany bit down on her bottom lip.

"Santana..."

The younger girl let out the breath she had been holding in and pursed her lips. She stopped swinging her legs. "No, it's okay. You're right; it did help."

Brittany turned her body as best as she could, trying not to drop her journal and bible, and placed a hand on Santana's cheek. "I know, but, I'm still sorry for saying it. But, like I said, I am a really good listener."

Santana's face grew warm underneath Brittany's pale fingers. She looked away, avoiding blue eyes, and gently brushed the hand off. Instead of replying, she abruptly jumped off of the tree branch, landing firmly on her bare feet with the Dickens' novel tucked snugly under her arm.

Brittany clasped her hands over her journal and bible, looking down at the Latina with her lip between her teeth.

Santana placed her book on the ground and opened her arms out in front of her. "Just jump; I'll catch you."

"Are you sure?"

"Claro está," Santana answered, the Spanish rolling off of her tongue with more ease than English.

Brittany cocked her head, fumbling with the pen and the journal rings.

"Lo siento," Santana mumbled. "Don't worry. I won't let you get hurt."

Brittany dropped her books first, and then held onto the branch tightly, preparing herself for the jump. With one swift movement (and her eyes closed), she landed on the hard grass with Santana's hands around her waist.

"See?" She whispered, "You just gotta' trust me." Santana smiled, the same smile that she used to practice in front of her mother's mirror for hours just so she could be like her brother Diego, and Brittany's cheeks flushed a deep scarlet.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Dialect. I hate it. Because I didn't grow up in Ohio during the 1930s, so I have no idea what the dialect is. Like, what kind of words/phrases did people use during the Depression, exactly? How formal was the speaking? Did they all have weird, pre-WWII accents? GUYS. I DON'T KNOW THESE THINGS.

But more Santana/Brittany interaction. To those of you who know the storyline of _Fried Green Tomatoes _(more specifically the book), you should have somewhat of an idea of what's happening next/in the near future.

I'm kind of stoked. Unless my campers kill me, in which case this story will be discontinued. And let me just say, campers killing me is a larger possibility than you think. Srsly, folks.**  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **As you can see, I survived five weeks of being a camp counselor at a science museum.

Minimal Spanish in this chapter (however I make zero promises for the nest one). Let me know if anything seems erratic or just simply hard to understand.

* * *

><p>"Well, lookie here at what the cat drug in!"<p>

Santana gave a sheepish smile as she walked up towards the tiny house with one, lone window.

"'Ey, 'Cedes! Get out here!"

Mercedes Jones came barreling through the front door with an apron around her waist and a broom in her hand. "What you hollerin' at me for, Matt?" She glared at the boy in front of her but her expression soon changed when she saw Santana standing next to him. "Oh, Santana!"

"Thought I'd stop by while everyone else was out," she explained. "It's been hard for me to get out of the house."

"Girl, it's been nearly a week since we seen you. What'chu been up to?" Mercedes threw her broom carelessly to the ground and placed her hands on her hips.

Santana shrugged. "Nothin' really. Gabriella and Mami are fussing over the wedding, and Papi and the twins have been working. I've just sort of been hanging around on my own."

"You still got that church girl livin' with you, right?" Matt asked.

At even this slight mention of Brittany, Santana blushed, nodding her head and mumbling, "Yeah."

Her pink-tinged cheeks did not go unnoticed. Mercedes and Matt turned to face each other with grins on their faces, and both went, "Ooooh!"

"Oh, hush!" Santana said, crossing her arms.

"I dunno, 'Cedes. You see that blush still a-creepin' on her face?"

Mercedes grinned, bunching up the apron in her hands. "Mmmhmm, you know I do, boy."

Santana growled. "I don't know what you guys are talkin' about."

"Aw, c'mon Santana. You know we mean no harm," Mercedes said, still smiling.

"Yeah," Matt said, "we'll leave you and your church gal alone."

With her face an even deeper shade of red, Santana scowled. "Alright. I'm leaving." She turned on her heel and walked down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust and tiny imprints from her shoes. Behind her, Matt and Mercedes had exchanged another knowing glance and burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, that love bug done and bit Santana."

Matt nodded his head. "That's for sure."

* * *

><p>Brittany had been trying to occupy herself with her journal, but she had already written the coming Sunday's lesson, and she had no intention of getting started on the next one. On the couch next to the chair she was sitting in, Gabriella and her mother were chatting animatedly in Spanish, unknowingly (or maybe even knowingly) leaving Brittany out of their conversation.<p>

To put it simply: Brittany was bored.

She sighed, blowing the air upwards, and looked up as her bangs fluttered on her forehead. Quietly excusing herself from the living room, Brittany left her books on the chair and made her way to the kitchen. She went over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, filling it up with water.

Mr. Lopez and Miguel were down at the store, and Marcos was at the auto shop; Brittany assumed that, due to the lack of her presence in the house, Santana was disobeying her mother and over the tracks in Lima Heights Adjacent.

Or at least, that's what Brittany had thought until she looked out the kitchen window and saw a pair of tanned legs dangling from the mulberry tree. Drinking the rest of her water and then setting her glass down in the sink, Brittany was about to walk out of the back door and into the backyard where Santana was. She stopped, though, because she had no idea of what she was actually going to say to the younger girl.

And then the sound of Gabriella's conversation with her mother flittered through Brittany's ears, the rapid-fire Spanish making absolutely no sense to the blonde.

Brittany smiled to herself again and walked outside, marching right up to the tree with her blonde hair tied in a pony tale behind her head.

"I want to learn Spanish."

Santana stopped swinging her feet and looked down with a bored expression. "Excuse me?"

Brittany put her hands on her hips in a defiant way. "I want to learn Spanish."

Santana immediately hoped down from the tree branch, startling Brittany, and said, "¿Por qué?"

"What?"

"No, _qué_."

Brittany frowned. "Santana..."

Grinning, Santana took a step forward so that the toes of their shoes were touching and whispered, "'Qué' means 'what.'"

"Qué?"

"Qué."

"This is kind of exciting," Brittany said, bouncing back onto her heels. "What else can you teach me?"

Santana bit down on her bottom lip, trying to push back the blush that was threatening to overtake her face. She looked up at the blonde, who had an eager and sincere look on her face, and grinned her well-practiced, charming grin. In a low voice she said, "Oh, yo puedo enseñarle mucho, querida."

Brittany stopped bouncing and her eyes grew wide. The blush that had been threatening Santana was now making its way to her own cheeks in an embarrassing manner.

Perhaps it was their close proximity. Perhaps it was the summer heat. Perhaps it was the fact that the Latina had simply spoken a foreign language.

Brittany tried smiling—she was good at that—but her signature mark had failed her, and all she could manage to do was blush even harder.

Santana Lopez had caused a sweet, Catholic girl to melt with nothing but a smile and a well-worded sentence.

Diego would be proud.

* * *

><p>Dinner had been running as a rather routine affair: Gabriella scoffed at her younger sister for still continuing to wear overalls with her blouses instead of skirts, Marcos and Miguel fought over the largest slice of meatloaf (or as Santana had informed Brittany when the walked into the kitchen, it was called <em>albondig<em>_ó__n _[and yes, Brittany did blush when the name of the Puerto Rican dish had rolled off of Santana's tongue]), and Brittany sat quietly while the boys told stories about their day.

Marcos was talking about how Noah Puckerman had come into the shop with his front windshield shattered.

"How did that happen?" Mrs. Lopez asked, clearly concerned.

"He didn't say," Marcos replied. "But, if I had to guess..." his voice trailed on and he took a bite out of his meatloaf.

Miguel nodded. "The Klan. Of course."

The table grew silent, which Brittany had decided was too awkward. She cleared her throat and looked up from her plate.

"Santana, could you please pass the salt?"

Santana picked up the small shaker, but paused before passing it over. "Ask in Spanish."

Brittany frowned. "San, I only know _one_ word."

The table grew even more silent, if that was even possible. The entire Lopez family had their eyes on the blonde, but Brittany didn't notice them as Santana laughed and handed over the salt shaker. "I'll just have to give you another Spanish lesson tomorrow."

Gabriella exchanged a look with her father, who then exchanged a look with his wife, who then exchanged a look with Marcos, who finally exchanged a look with his twin.

* * *

><p>"Um, Brittany," Miguel awkwardly cleared his throat. "Could I, uh, have a word with you?"<p>

Brittany unassumingly shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."

The two went into the empty kitchen where the only light came from the setting sun; everything around them looked dark blue.

"Earlier, during dinner, you called Santana 'San,'" he stated plainly.

"Should I not have? Did I offend her?" Brittany fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, trying not to panic at the thought of saying something wrong.

Miguel quickly shook his head. "No! I mean, she responded—she _laughed_. It's just that...that's what Diego called her."

Brittany gripped the cloth tightly; her palms felt sweaty.

"I know it seems silly," he continued, "but...no one's called her that ever since, well..."

"I understand," Brittany said, letting go of her skirt hem.

Miguel nodded and smiled. "Y'know, Santana's really opened up since you've gotten here. She seems to be really happy."

"Does she?"

"Oh yeah. Whatever you're doing...keep it up."

With that, Miguel gently patted Brittany on the shoulder and walked away, leaving her alone in the dark blue-tinted kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I really feel like that Mercedes and Santana could have an awesome friendship on the show. Seriously. They're both kind of bad ass; it would totally work.

But in other news...more Santana/Brittany development. Rad. I know it seems kind of slow, but, if I don't chicken out on writing this, I plan on making this story _very_ long. For those of you who have read/seen _Fried Green Tomatoes_, you know that a lot happens. For those of you have not read/seen FGT...you're in for a whirlwind.

Enjoy the ride.

And also give the author feedback because this author is going crazy.**  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **I meant to update this ages ago; before I left for college. But, obviously, that never happened. So, due to the fact that this chapter was written in parts and rather sporadically, there's a chance that things might be inconsistent. Let me know if something seems a bit wonky!

* * *

><p>The clock had just struck six in the morning, the sun had barely made an appearance over the horizon, and someone was knocking on Brittany's attic-bedroom door.<p>

"Wake up, sueño de cabeza."

"Hm?" Brittany sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and yawned. "Isn't it kind of early?"

Santana merely shrugged.

"Well, shouldn't we wait for Gabriella to wake up and get ready?"

Santana shrugged again.

"Where are we going?"

Santana shrugged for a third time and Brittany briefly wondered if she would speak for the rest of the morning.

"I can't get dressed if you're standing there, now can I?"

Santana smiled this time. "Just be downstairs in ten minutes, okay?"

"Alright."

Brittany flounced downstairs in a pale blue dress, and was met with a smiling Santana holding a basket and blanket by the front door. She tucked a loose hair behind her ear and looked skeptically at the other girl's attire.

"You're not wearing overalls," Brittany commented. And, indeed, the other girl was not clad in her usual attire. Santana was wearing a pair of denim pants that were fitted and came up to above her waist with a blouse tucked neatly in.

Santana used her free hand to smooth a crease on the pants she was wearing. "They were Miguel's. Mami altered them to fit me better than the tattered overalls."

"I like it."

A blush made its presence on Santana's face and Brittany giggled. Awkwardness hung in the air as the two became silent, and Santana cleared her throat.

"We should, uh, get going. Vamos."

Brittany assumed that the Spanish word was some form of "let's go." She noticed Santana stick her empty hand in her pocket and said, "We're walking to wherever we're going, right?"

Santana pulled out a set of car keys from her pocket and grinned. "Marcos said we could use his car."

"Really?"

Santana nodded, knowing full well that it was lie. Before waking Brittany up, she had snuck into her brother's room and pulled the keys out of the pocket of his oil-stained pants from the previous day that were laying on the floor. He wouldn't notice; he was a heavy sleeper. Besides, Beiste's Auto Repair was within walking distance of their house.

Brittany was apprehensive about riding in a car with Santana driving. Where were they going that required a car ride to get there, anyway? Santana grinned again at her, dangling the keys in the air, and Brittany couldn't help but push her apprehension aside and smile weakly in return. She ushered Brittany out the front door, closing it with a muffled click, and then helped the blonde into the passenger seat of the car where the basket of food and the blanket sat neatly on her lap.

"So, uh, you know how to drive?"

"'Course I do." Santana started the car up with a low rumble. "I wouldn't take—I mean, um, Marcos wouldn't let me borrow his car if I had never driven it before."

They drove in silence. Santana was busy keeping her hands gripped on the wheel and her eyes peeled to the road while Brittany had her nose nearly pressed to the window. They passed through Lima, leaving the town with its homes and small shops behind, and made their way into Ohio's countryside. It almost reminded Brittany of Lancaster, how everything was wide and open, except the grass seemed patchier and the land was more flat.

"We're almost there," Santana said, breaking the silence as they passed by a farm.

Brittany nodded her head absentmindedly as she watch a cow grazing around the side of the red barn.

After another three minutes, Santana pulled the car over on the side of the dirt road, shutting the engine off and wiping her hands on the thighs of her pants. There were no more farms or any other buildings around them; they were alone. Brittany hopped out of the car, careful with the basket as she smoothed out her dress, and stared incredulously at the landscape before her.

"Where are we?"

Large, grey rocks littered the area where Santana had pulled off to. Bits of grass and wildflowers had sprouted through some of the cracks, peppering the limestone with greens and purples and yellows.

"If you keep stopping to ask question," Santana said, coming up next to her, "you'll never find out."

Brittany turned her head to the side and frowned. She didn't like not knowing what was going on and where they were.

"C'mon," Santana grabbed onto Brittany's free hand, directing her towards the rocks and away from the safety of the car. "Just be careful so you don't trip." She clambered expertly over the rocks, grasping on tightly to Brittany's hand so as to not let her fall, and managed to lead them to a small creak with trees on the other side.

The sound of the running water trickled throughout the air, dragonflies and gnats hovered over the tiny stream, and the purple wildflowers had bloomed all across the edge. It was so unvarnished yet nothing like Brittany had imagined it would be.

"Diego used to bring me here," Santana commented, bringing the blonde out of her trance. "No one else knew about this place."

"It's both simple and wonderful," Brittany said, looking bemused as a dragonfly buzzed around the water splashing on a rock.

"Here, have a seat." They were standing on a flat rock right on the edge of the stream and Santana took the blanket, spreading it out so they could properly sit. Brittany sat, tucking her legs beneath the hem of her dress, and placing the basket in between the two of them and opening it precariously. She pulled out two spiraled pieces of bread that were topped with powdered sugar and took in the sweet smell.

"Pastries?"

Santana nodded. "Mallorca."

"My...what?"

"My-your-ka." Santana said it slowly, emphasizing each syllable until Brittany could pronounce it correctly.

"It smells good," she said.

"It's a sweet pastry; I think you'll like it."

"I don't remember seeing your mother bake these, though," Brittany said, delving once more into the basket to find a thermos of milk; it was still relatively cold.

"That's because she didn't," Santana replied, almost smirking.

"Was it Gabriella, then? Your mother and I had stayed later with Father Hudson yesterday than her."

Santana scoffed. "_I _made all of this."

Brittany hesitated before speaking, her fingers in a pinched position, ready to pull off a piece of the pastry. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Santana's face heated up at the statement turned question. "I guess I am."

Brittany smiled, plopping the sugar-coated bread into her mouth. "Mmm. This _is_ good."

"You doubted me?"

"No," Brittany giggled after swallowing. She ripped off another piece and ate it. "So, this is called mallorka, and we're drinking milk with it...how do you say _milk_ in Spanish?"

Santana swallowed her own mouthful of the pastry and said, "Leche."

Brittany repeated the word under her breath. "What about basket?" She pointed to the basket between them.

"Canasta."

"Water?"

"Agua."

"Because we eat it all the time..." Brittany squinted her eyes, "How about _rice_?"

Santana chuckled. "Arroz. And there will probably be arroz con pollo por cena la noche. Chicken and rice for dinner tonight," she added upon seeing the befuddled look on Brittany's face.

"So..._cena_ is dinner and _noche_ is night?"

"Exactly!" Santana smiled.

They continued like this for a while; Brittany asking Santana how to say words in Spanish and then repeating them quietly under her breath until she committed them to memory. She had moved on from words like brother and sister (hermno y hermana, respectively) to phrases like, "I'm tired," ("Estoy cansado,") "Could you pass the..." ("Podría pasar el...") and even, "Ew, Marcos! Stop that!" ("Ew, Marcos! No hagas eso!").

The milk thermos had been emptied, there were nothing but crumbs left of the mallorka, and Brittany had now acquired a basic knowledge and vocabulary of Spanish (Santana had decided to skip out on the grammar lesson and ave that for another time). Brittany was adjusting her legs under the hem of her blue dress, brushing leftover powdered sugar off of the cloth and onto the rock, swatting at a gnat that had flown by.

"Okay," she said, looking directly at Santana. "How do you say, 'This was wonderful'?"

"Esto fue maravilloso," Santana answered, her cheeks reddening with anticipation of what Brittany would ask next.

"What bout, 'Thank you for taking me here'?"

"Gracias por traerme aquí."

Brittany leaned in close to Santana, her hand placed gently on the other girl's knee with their shoulders touching. "Esto fue maravilloso, Santana," she whispered. "Gracias poe traerme aquí."

Santana's heart was thudding louder than her father's shoes whenever he angrily walked up the stairs; she was shocked that Brittany couldn't hear it since they were so close together. The sound of the trickling creak had disappeared, along with the buzzing of the dragonflies; perhaps it was the intimacy of the moment that made Brittany and Santana ignore their surroundings.

"I overheard Gabriella saying this to her fiance, and I think I already know what it means..." Brittany had lowered her voice even more and had inched closer. "_Te amo._" She pressed her lips to Santana's cheek, kissing her softly.

Brittany had unknowingly used the wrong verb, but nevertheless, Santana melted.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>_Te amo_ means _I love you_ in Spanish. However, so does _Te quiero._ What's the difference? The former means it in a more romantic way, whereas the latter means it in a more friendly way. Of course, Santana would know this, but it's easy for Brittany to have no idea that there's a difference to begin with.

That being said...two more chapters. _Two more chapters._ No, this story isn't ending in two chapters. _Shit_ is going to _hit the primordial fan_ (a common phrase apparently used on my campus) in two chapters.

Guys. Prepare for more character introductions, plot development, and use of Spanish. Lots and lots of Spanish.


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